


sleep to the freezing

by mywordsflyup



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Qunari have a weird scent thing, lazy summer afternoons
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-22
Updated: 2015-07-22
Packaged: 2018-04-10 17:31:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,017
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4400951
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mywordsflyup/pseuds/mywordsflyup
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Bull's fingers are too big to make daisy chains.</i>
</p><p>Basically just wildflowers and sunshine and making out. All the good stuff.</p>
            </blockquote>





	sleep to the freezing

Bull’s fingers are too big to make daisy chains. 

It should not come as a surprise. He has broken sturdier things than delicate white flowers before, but it still annoys him. It seemed so easy when Dalish explained it, her long fingers weaving the stems with ease. Under his touch, they just fall apart. Tiny white petals fall from his hands into his lap like snow.

He has tried his luck with other flowers. Dandelions and buttercup. Long-stemmed lady’s smock. Yellow star and golden yarrow. None have worked and the pile of discarded flowers next to him is nothing but a sad reminder. 

Another daisy loses its head and tumbles in between his legs. He curses underneath his breath and feels Cadash stirring next to him. Shielding her eyes against the sun, she sits up. 

“No luck with the flowers?” she asks,her voice still heavy with sleep, and scoots closer to him, pushing down the high grass between them. 

“Sorry for waking you,” he says and brushes a bit of dried grass from her shoulder. “But yes, no luck with the damn flowers.” 

“What a shame.” She plucks a flower from his lap and holds it up to her nose. “They smell fantastic.” 

He brushes away the rest of the flowers and turns his body to her. “Not as good as you.” 

It’s a terrible line and she groans but the smile spreading across her face in genuine. “I thought everyone but you Qunari smells like pork that’s been sitting in the sun for too long?” He is almost certain that she is joking. Almost. But the fact that she remembers his comment after all these months has him a little worried. 

“That’s humans,” he quickly says. “Not dwarves. And definitely not you.” He reaches out to her and she leans into him. “Never you.” 

“So, what _do_ I smell like?” There is a smile in her voice as she reaches out and puts her hand in his. Her entire hand is smaller than his palm and he turns it with gentle fingers, as if he is afraid he might break it after all. Perhaps he is. Her wrist exposed, paler than the rest of her, with blue veins underneath paper thin skin. He runs a calloused thumb over it and feels her shiver under his touch despite the heat.

He gives her a little smirk that has her huffing, as he brings up her wrist to his lips and places a quick kiss to it before taking a deep breath. 

“Sunshine,” he says after a heartbeat. It’s cheesy and she rolls her eyes but does not lose the smile. She rarely does. He takes another breath, his eye closed this time. In his mind, she opens up to him like a flower. Honey, he thinks. Lemon balm. And underneath, lazy like a summer’s day, lavender. “That perfume Josephine gave you for your birthday,” he says without opening his eye. 

He can feel her shifting closer, gently pulling her hand out of his grasp to place it against his cheek. Small soft fingers press against his scarred face. 

“What else?” Her voice is close. He opens his eye and looks at her. Her flushed cheeks and sparkling eyes. 

“Me.” 

Her breath hitches and her fingers still. And for a moment her smiles falters just before it returns tugging at the corners of her lips, turning it into something wilder. Something with teeth and bloodlust in it. The one she usually reserves for fighting. Or fucking. 

“Is that so?” 

“Mhm.” It’s more of a grunt than an answer. Perhaps he has said too much. He feels almost uncertain, which never happens. Only ever with her and her smiles and her soft touches and everything else. 

“And what exactly does that smell like?” 

It’s difficult to put in words, especially when she lifts her leg to straddle him. Small hands pushing against his broad chest and words tumbling through his brain like pebbles. 

Fire and sweat. Hot Iron and copper. Blood. Violence. Sawdust and hot sand under a scorching sun. It’s familiar. The scent he catches when he covers his face with his hands or when he falls into the pillows at night. But tinged with her, it becomes something different. Something more, something fuller. 

“Heavy,” he says. 

She does not answer but pushes him further until his back hits the soft grass and she leans over him. “I like that,” she says and kisses him. Soft lips, sweet tongue. Heavy. 

When she sits back up again, she drags her blunt nails over his chest and gives him a smile that could almost pass as coy if it weren’t for the glimmer of mischief in her eyes. 

“So this scent of yours,” she says. “Can other Qunari smell it on me?” Her fingers trail to his ribs and his breath quickens. “Can they smell _you_ on me?” 

“Yes.” He does not lie. Not to her. “It’s… a Qunari thing.” 

He watches her. Searches her face for the slightest hint of discomfort. But she just smiles and stretches, lazy like a cat in the afternoon sun. “Good,” she says and reaches for the discarded pile of flowers next to him. “Or better than pork, anyway.” She winks and spreads out the flowers over his chest and stomach. He runs his hands over her thighs and cocks an eyebrow. 

“So what is this now?” 

She picks up two dandelions and twists the stems together. Her fingers so much more nimble than his. “I’m afraid you were not Dalish’s only student.” She weaves in a few strands of lady’s smock. “And she said I was much better at this than you.” 

He snorts and a few daisies roll off his chest and into the grass. “Of course she did.” He pauses for a moment. “You think you can get one long enough to get it over my horns?” 

She grins. “What do you think I’m trying to do here?” 

He watches her work, with his arms crossed behind his head and the heady scent of wildflowers in the air between them.

**Author's Note:**

> Title taken from Hozier's "Cherry Wine".
> 
> You can also follow my [tumblr](http://damnable-rogue.tumblr.com) if you're interested.


End file.
